


Melody & Lyrics

by shye_rin



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:25:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shye_rin/pseuds/shye_rin
Summary: Hyukjae first met him at The Library, poring over papers.





	Melody & Lyrics

**Author's Note:**

> A 2017 birthday present for kamenajin. Prompt is based off of the list I found on pinterest - _broken wristwatch, peppermints, a hug that goes too far._ X-posted here.

Hyukjae looked up from the book he’s scribbling in.

There _he_ was again.

Though he wasn’t looking at him now, Hyukjae’s sure the other man usually did when he wasn’t. He’s not one to think too much into anything, comfortable putting the incidents as pure coincidences. Hyukjae himself was a frequent face here, loving the quiet ambience of the café aptly named The Library. So it wasn’t strange that someone else shared his sentiment.

Hyukjae stole another glance away from his book at the man.

He had his headphones snug over his ears and a thick book propped open on his lap. A cup of coffee sat on the low table in front of him next to a plate of croissant, butter still unopened in its tiny packet. Hyukjae’s eyes roamed over the man’s attire.

The man was dressed comfortably. That was the right word for it. Casual washed-out jeans, a collared shirt peeking from beneath the thin jumper he wore on top. Hyukjae looked higher, his gaze settling on the man’s face. He noticed the almost square jaw – not angular by any chance, but smooth lines – on a softly masculine face, thin lips that were now moving silently, miming something he couldn’t hear and jet black hair set in a fetchingly boyish cut.

But Hyukjae couldn’t see his eyes.

Those eyes were hooded as he bent over to read the book on his lap, hidden behind wire-rimmed glasses. If Hyukjae had to guess, they’d be colour of melted dark chocolate his sister loved to add to her curry. It just suited him, he thought.

Hyukjae realised he was staring and quickly ducked his head back to concentrate on his writing. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d seen the other man, but this was the first he’d taken particular interest in … well, the _particulars_.

Like Hyukjae, the man came to the café regularly. Sometimes he had a book in his hand; other times he had a suitcase with him. Hyukjae had seen him poring over some documents. As the use of electronic gadgets was strongly discouraged in the café – barring plugged-in music players, it wasn’t an unusual sight. All times, he came alone.

Sometimes, Hyukjae was sure he could feel eyes on him when he wasn’t looking. There were rarely any people in here, so it wasn’t hard to pinpoint the origin. Perhaps he was projecting, but he was sure he wasn’t. He just needed to catch the man in the act.

Tonight though, he was lounging leisurely and appearing more relaxed than Hyukjae had ever seen him. Hyukjae frowned at his notebook. He’d barely written a line on it. Getting a writer’s block now was out of the question, although it’s his first time working on scores for a musical. His deadline was approaching fast.

Hyukjae tapped the end of his pencil against the edge of his notebook. He stared thoughtfully at nothing, willing his inspiration to come. It didn’t take long, but he felt the prickling of someone’s eyes watching him.

Making the conscious effort to not appear too obvious, he shifted in his seat as if adjusting his posture and shot a glance through the corner of his eyes. The man was definitely looking at him. A hand wedged between the pages of the book in his lap, the other propping against the back of his head, elbow braced at the back of the sofa. His eyes were on him.

Hyukjae bit his lips, unsure what to do. He hadn’t found his attention all that unpleasant. If he had, he’d gone off right when his alarm went off. There was something appraising about his gaze that had Hyukjae squirming in his seat.

What was it he wanted?

The muscles in his eyes were starting to ache. He abandoned the attempt at being stealthy. He lifted his gaze properly. The man was still watching him with the same unchanging expression. His heart skipped a beat.

He was right about his eyes. They were really like melted dark chocolate. Hyukjae found that he quite liked that. It had him wondering what he smelled like. He blinked and the other man was no longer looking at him. A part of him wondered if he’d imagined it all.

When Hyukjae prepared to leave that evening, he glanced at him to find the seat now empty. He must’ve left while he was furiously scribbling on his notebook at the spark of inspiration that hit him a while ago. He sighed, unsure why that disappointed him.

As he strode past the now abandoned sofa, he thought he detected a hint of peppermints. It smelled refreshing. Hyukjae wondered once more if the man was indeed the enigma he’d made him up to be.

\---

Hyukjae’d arrived at The Library late for once.

He meandered his way through the occupied seats to the counter. His eyes immediately went to the sofa. It was empty. How odd, he thought. He was so used to seeing him there, propped against the cushions and always with a cup of coffee on the table, sometimes the occasional pastry.

A harried barista handed him his latte with a little more force than necessary. Hyukjae started, the cover snapping open that nearly had the content spilling on the counter and over him. He wobbled, latte saved but he was quickly losing balance. His hand nudged something solid and he grabbed it instantly.

Thank God for high counters, he thought, steadying himself.

Hyukjae heard rustling that had his head snapping up in awareness. He was standing in front of him, and Hyukjae was clutching onto the sleeve of the man’s jacket. The other in turn had his fingers wrapped around Hyukjae’s wrist.

Drink saved and his body thankfully upright, Hyukjae took a cautious step back. His wrist slid out of the strong grip as he too, released the other’s sleeve. There was a faint smile playing on those thin lips. The kind of smile one reserved for someone they’re familiar with.

He felt the pleasant skittering beneath his skin. This was the closest he’d been to the man after weeks of sitting in different corners of the café. The change was pleasing.

And he was staring again.

Speaking past the sudden constriction in his throat, Hyukjae managed a weak nod and uttered a barely audible, “Thank you.”

The smooth baritone voice in return surprised him. “You’re welcome.” It made his skin tingle in a good way.

A hand extended between them. Hyukjae stared at it. A low chuckle had him looking up uncertainly. Hesitantly he clasped their hands together in some semblance of a handshake. A steady firm grip, callused hand and very definitely strong told Hyukjae of a man accustomed to working with his hands despite his appearance.

The sleeve of his jacket was riding up his forearm. Hyukjae would’ve been blind not to notice the muscles hidden beneath. His eyes caught sight of the watch fitted onto the man’s wrist. It looked slightly askew. He gasped.

“Your watch!” Hyukjae exclaimed in horror. “It’s broken!”

The hairline crack in the middle was barely noticeable in the lighting. It didn’t seem like much at first but now that Hyukjae’d turned the man’s hand properly he could see it. Unaware he was probably extending unprecedented welcome by holding on.

The other twisted his wrist to get a better look. Hyukjae saw the other pause for a while before shrugging. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I broke it, didn’t I?” he insisted, guilt quickly seeping in. “When I grabbed onto you.”

Another smile, this time it was a little wistful. “Rather than think it’s broken, I’d rather think it scarred. The needles work just fine, the fracture on the glass’s only skin deep.”

Hyukjae was struck by the abstract description of the situation. He hoped he didn’t look as perplexed as he felt. His eyes trailed to his hand still holding the other’s wrist and hastily let go. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“No harm done,” was the calm reply as he fixed his watch. “I believe I’ve held you up long.”

Realising they’ve stood there for a while now, Hyukjae threw an uneasy look around. It must’ve looked odd for two men who didn’t know each other to be standing face-to-face that close exchanging odd cryptic words. To his relief, nobody was paying attention – not even the distraught barista from earlier or the cashier.

“Sorry,” he bowed sincerely, not knowing what else to say. “If there’s anything I can do to help fix your watch, I’d be happy to.”

“Don’t think too much about it,” the other waved off his offer. “Besides, I quite like it this way. Who doesn’t go through life without a little scar here and there?”

Bowing to Hyukjae lightly this time, he walked away without waiting for another reply. Hyukjae gaped faintly, glued to the spot. He watched the door close from his abrupt departure.

“Is something the matter, sir?”

The voice jolted him out of his reverie. He turned to see a waiter watching him, a question on his face. He shook his head and shot the man a reassuring smile. Taking a sip of his latte, he noted it had gone cold as he strode over to his usual spot.

As he did, he thought he smelled the fading hint of peppermints where the other man last stood. Opening his notebook, Hyukjae began writing though his mind wandered. Guilt and intrigue fought their way in his mind.

“I didn’t even ask for his name,” he pondered quietly.

\---

Hyukjae hadn’t gone to The Library for almost two weeks now.

It left him feeling strangely off-based. He couldn’t figure out why. He’d gone longer without going there before when work became too hectic. Commuting from his place to the café took time and energy after all. Now, he felt unsettlingly fidgety.

I wonder if he’s there.

He flipped through the music sheets in front of him trying to get his mind to focus. It proved more difficult than he thought. These were the music scores for the musical. Selected few of these compositions would make the cut as companions to his self-penned lyrics.

Usually it wasn’t a hard task. It’s something he enjoyed immensely. But his thoughts kept on straying where it shouldn’t. His mind was occupied by a certain stranger whose name he didn’t know. Hyukjae frowned at the thought.

What did he know?

_A man with eyes of dark, melted chocolate who spoke in a soothing baritone and smelled like fresh peppermints._

Hyukjae scoffed inwardly. He isn’t your lyrics. Don’t put him on paper, he scolded himself. There was more to that man and here he was simplifying him into what he thought he knew.

Still…

This wasn’t going anywhere when he sighed for the umpteenth time that night. The scores and words were starting to run together. He should just leave it for now and go home. Everyone else had left an hour or so ago, only he was left in the huge building.

He shivered as he stepped outside – the cold evening air hitting his face. There weren’t many people around at this hour. He was walking in the direction of his home when he stopped abruptly. He mulled it over for a while, checking the time on his phone and turned to head in the opposite direction on a light sprint.

_What am I doing really?_

Driven by impulse, Hyukjae rounded the corner from The Library feeling a healthy dose of trepidation. It was very late in the evening, although the café remained open daily until 2am. There was a chance this was a fool’s errand. Not only was it late, he wasn’t certain he would be there.

He cautiously peeked through the frosted glass leading towards the steps up the café entrance. There were only two people inside, and the man wasn’t either one of them. Hyukjae fought the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was stupid. He knew it from the start, but he couldn’t resist the foolish impulse.

Sighing in disappointment, Hyukjae ducked away from the café. He hailed a taxi, having neither the energy nor strength to walk any longer. The trains would’ve stopped running by now. There really was no point to this exercise, he thought dejectedly.

It was silly to miss someone you hardly knew after all.

\---

Hyukjae wasn’t pleased.

Work had slowed down. He’d finally managed to get back to his old routine – more spare time and spending the evenings at The Library. He couldn’t believe his luck the first evening he was back in his usual spot. The other man walked in not long after he did.

His heart skipped a bit at the sight of him. It’s been a while. He watched stealthily as the other made his order at the counter, taking in the muscular outline of his back. To his disappointment, the other didn’t as much as look in his direction. He frowned.

Hyukjae decided to ignore it as he immersed himself in writing. Perhaps the man needed to get some work done fast, there wasn’t time for chitchat. That didn’t stop him from sighing heavily though, especially when he realised he hadn’t felt the tingling each time he felt the other was watching him.

And that was a week ago.

The other man hadn’t spoken to him ever since – not counting the two weeks he was away, of course. It’s as if their interaction hadn’t taken place at all. He knew, rather felt the missing glances that were usually thrown in his direction missing. That didn’t bode well with him.

Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Hyukjae looked up just in time to see the other stand up. The latter disappeared in the direction of the bathroom. Heaving a sigh, he decided he should just leave early. He passed the low table and took a glance at the sheets of paper on the man’s table.

They were music scores.

That information pleased him. They had something in common, he thought with a small smile.

\---

The next time Hyukjae saw him, they were waiting by the counter at The Library for their orders. He asked the man, “So, you like music?”

He seemed surprised for a second but his expression eased. Hyukjae relaxed too. “I dabble here and there,” was the short reply.

“It suits you,” Hyukjae said without thinking

Another surprised look. “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”

Realising how forward that must’ve sounded, Hyukjae gestured his hand nervously. “I – I mean, uh…”

The other chuckled at his discomfort. “It’s alright.”

They were interrupted by the barista, having finished with their orders. Hyukjae still felt flushed under the collars but he gratefully took his cup from the other’s outstretched hand. He made a beeline for his usual seat before he could embarrass himself any further.

“Mind if I join you?”

The question stopped him in his tracks. His mouth went dry. This was either going to be a bad or good idea, there was nowhere around it. But curiosity won, and he felt himself nod in assent. He felt the other follow him from behind. His solid presence was hard to miss.

Despite his bravado and curiosity, he’s glad that the other took the seat across the table from rather than next to him. Hyukjae took a sip of his coffee, unsure what to do.

Clearing his throat, Hyukjae gestured at the other’s wrist. “You’re still wearing that, I see.”

The latter smiled, running a finger over the watch with the distinctive crack on the screen. “I quite like it more now. A bit battered, but it does add a bit of character to it. It sort of says there’s a story to tell.”

“Do you?” Hyukjae was intrigued.

A mildly questioning look.

“Do you… have a story to tell?” he repeated uncertainly.

“Not any more than the next person, I’m afraid. I came here from the province several years back, decided to stay and did a few odd jobs to make that happen.” Seeing Hyukjae’s expression, he laughed. “Disappointed?”

Aghast, Hyukjae shook his head vigorously. “No, it’s nothing like that. But I’d be lying if I wasn’t expecting something with a bit more flourish,” he admitted sheepishly.

“Ah. Well, it seems life hasn’t graced me with such experiences,” the man said with another easy smile. “That is, until recently.”

“Oh?” Now he was curious again.

“But it’s unfinished.”

Hyukjae blinked. “Will you tell me when it’s done?”

A pause. “Perhaps. After the pages are filled.”

Those words left him feeling contented. It’s like he’s finally getting a glimpse of what sort of person the other man was.

“Promise?”

That earned him an amused chuckle. “I promise. You’ll be the first one to know.”

Hyukjae positively beamed.

\---

It was another one of their shared evenings.

The other man leaned in and gave Hyukjae a one arm-hug. It’s the kind guys insisted on calling manly hugs – ones exchanged between buddies. He thought they could call it whatever they wanted, but he was nearly convinced it lasted longer than it should.

He found that he didn’t mind.

It surprised him, sure, but he hadn’t found it the least strange. They were standing outside The Library. Hyukjae was fixing the buckle on his bag, and the other stood beside him looking pensive. And suddenly he was engulfed in a brief hug.

The other was the first to let go, leaving him a little flustered. “Goodnight.” Then, he was walking away while Hyukjae stood with his own arms around his torso, unsure.

It continued like that for some time. The other giving him a hug before they parted for the night. Hyukjae wondered when he started looking forward to it. Each time he waited with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness as the time for them to part drew nearer.

There was no subtext to that gesture. It was a brief gesture between two people who enjoyed each other’s company, as platonically as possible. Hyukjae had to remind himself they were both men, and men did hug. Theirs might lack the backslapping element, but there was no indication that it was anything more either.

They were mid-hug one night when his best friend, Junsu saw them. To his credit, the younger man didn’t interrupt. He was there by chance and asked if that was his secret lover. And perhaps, he was also the reason Hyukjae’s been staying out longer during the nights than usual.

Junsu wondered the paragon who’d been keeping his friend busy. Hyukjae found he didn’t know the answer. They’d never gotten the name part down – they’d carried on talking, picking up where they left off from their previous meeting.

Never once did they think to ask for the name of their companion. At least, Hyukjae had let that matter slip from his mind. The other man intrigued him. That’s all that mattered. Perhaps he was too quick to let that slide.

“Spending your free nights with a paragon with no name?” Junsu had raised his eyebrows at him.

Hyukjae knew his friend was right. Next time then, he promised himself.

\---

They sat together often now.

It was almost like they’d settled into a routine with ease but without meaning to. Hyukjae had his head bent down, scribbling in his trusty notebook. The other was reviewing a pile of sheet music again, jotting down corrections as he went. When Hyukjae finally looked up, he found the man watching him.

“I like watching you do work.”

Hyukjae flushed and ducked his head. He determinedly ignored the pleasant warmth that spread through his body from that simple statement. When they stepped out of the café that evening, the other leaned in once more to embrace him.

He let his arm linger a little too long. Because he liked that the other was warm and smelled like fresh peppermints. The man didn’t mind. That pleased Hyukjae. When they both let go, they stared at each other. Their breaths were fogging up in the cold evening air. They were still standing a little too close.

“I’ll see you around, Hyukjae.”

Belatedly, he realised that much later into the night, the other had called him by his name. They’d never exchanged names despite their many albeit unplanned meetings in the evenings. It was like they were intrinsically drawn to one another and became instantly familiar. And the reminder of Junsu’s words sadly remained forgotten.

They never really did the introductions.

\---

Hyukjae was left to mull over their last interaction.

The other hadn’t shown up at The Library since that night. He wondered if his lingering hug had offended the other somehow. Despite knowing the seat was empty, he couldn’t help looking up. There was something lonely about the sofa without its usual occupant poring over papers.

He sighed, setting down his notebook a little harder than he should. Starting the next day, his work would pick up again. He wouldn’t be able to make time for this place. He’d hoped to see the man before the long weeks to come. As such, he’d no luck.

\---

A reclusive composer, Hyukjae was told by his employer, wanted him to pen the lyrics to his accompanying music.

It was a big ask but he was ecstatic. A musical with opera singers and orchestral music, he could only imagine. He’d never once imagined working with people with so much raw talent.

Anxiety and elation fought within him, but this was his first big step. This was his breakthrough. Maybe if he managed it well, he could tell tales of it to the man he itched to see. If he managed to even see him after this, and that thought bothered him.

He’d left the music scores back in his apartment. Junsu dropped them off in the studio where he worked. His friend whistled his approval. Hyukjae wondered why.

“HARU.”

At the end of every sheet music, a name was etched onto the edge – a stylised HARU written in blue ink. Junsu affirmed that the composer was the true meaning of reclusive, refusing any interviews or appearances in the media. However, his compositions were sought after and regarded amongst the best in modern times.

When his friend left, Hyukjae took another look at the sheet music. His name wasn’t written at the top, apt for someone who kept himself away from the public eye. Just the stylised HARU penned in the hidden corner at the end of every composition.

Come to think of it, _he_ said he dabbled in music. Hyukjae had seen the music scores the other occasionally worked on while they’re spending the evenings in the café. He wasn’t lying when he said it suited the other. Someone as soulful as he could very well connect with the intrinsic workings of melody and harmony.

And there he went, thinking about him again.

He stared at the music scores again, and heaved a sigh. There’s time for mooning but today wasn’t it. He’d looked over them twice and liked what he saw. It wouldn’t be hard for him to put words to the music if only he could get his head on straight. The words had already started forming as he was reviewing them. That connection he felt to the music captured on the sheets of paper. He hadn’t felt it in a long while.

He got to work with thoughts of _him_ lingering in his mind.

\---

Hyukjae winced.

He’d fallen asleep leaning against the headboard of his bed. The pillow he’d placed against his spine slid down, providing no cushioning. When Junsu waltzed in his room that morning, his friend shot him a sympathetic look and a joking reminder he needed to visit the chiropractor.

He could feel his bones creaking, the muscles in his body protesting. His mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t get to sleep early as he’d hoped. Thoughts of the other man filled his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the enigmatic man. Junsu had taken to calling him The Paragon.

Probably his friend’s attempt at cheering him up but, he was grateful for it.

Today though, he needed to focus for this meeting. He’d finally be meeting the composer, HARU. He was told it’s such a rare request and he couldn’t help but feel honoured when he first heard. Something about this composer reminded him of another man.

_A soulful man who kept things close to his chest and had an abstract view on life._

The very same man he was itching to see, but hadn’t been able to. One who’d given him hugs each night, leaving him feeling warm inside despite the cold. The one whose story he’d said was unfinished, and promised Hyukjae he’d be the first one to know if it was.

If only Hyukjae’d known his name.

There was a brief knock on the door and his manager walked in. The older man gestured for someone outside the door. Hyukjae stood up immediately. They had a guest. It was rarely done. Entertaining guests usually took place on the floors above where the meeting rooms were.  
“Hyukjae, I’d like you to meet someone. I’ve told him it isn’t necessary but he insisted on greeting you himself.”

The person stepped inside from the shadows in the corridor. Hyukjae felt his heart skip a beat.

“Hello, Hyukjae. I’m HARU,” the man greeted with a smile. “Please call me Donghae. Nice to meet you.”

\---

They met at The Library.

The workers were used to seeing the two together now. One might come earlier than the other, but they’d always seek out one another. It was either the comfy sofa or the corner table that Hyukjae’d preferred. Night shift baristas and cashiers had even memorised the patterns of their orders as if they’re on schedule. They took turns.

They discussed music often times than not. Hyukjae loved listening to Donghae’s voice when he talked. He also liked that sat next to each other now – their shoulders bumping, elbows touching, fingers brushing over one another’s as they pored over the scores on papers.

Yet, none made a move to do more beyond the comfort of the present.

Hyukjae contemplated doing more. There was also another question persisting in his mind – Donghae’s unfinished story. He was still deep in his thoughts, waiting for the composer to arrive when Donghae placed a sheet music on the table in front of him.

He blinked and took it. There was no title, just a completed score without any lyrics. Hyukjae looked at the other questioningly. They were in fact currently working on another musical opera together but this didn’t look familiar. Hyukjae’d have remembered.

“Donghae, this is incomplete.”

“I know,” Donghae said easily, dragging a chair next to Hyukjae’s.

Right. He stared at the sheet in his hand uncertainly, then back at the younger man. “Why’re you giving me this?”

“I was hoping you’d know how to fix that.”

Hyukjae wasn’t sure until Donghae leaned in. A soft chaste kiss was placed on his lips. They were sitting at the corner table that Hyukjae preferred, obscured mostly by the pillar and shelf of coffee bean packets and novelty takeaway cups. Donghae drew back a little, eyes holding his and the smile Hyukjae’d come to adore playing on his lips.

“Are you going to help me complete it?”

Lips still tingling from the sensation, Hyukjae barely got the words to register. He glanced at the semi-complete music score then at Donghae. The latter was still watching him, waiting. He’d always wondered many things ever since meeting the man.

“I’d love to,” Hyukjae said finally. “But, I think I’d like another one of this.”

This time, he leaned in and initiated another kiss. He felt fingers circling his wrist, pulling him closer and entwining their fingers. Donghae was as warm as he remembered. He still smelled like fresh peppermints and his eyes still reminded Hyukjae of melted dark chocolates.

Much later that night, if anyone cared to look closer, they’d find Hyukjae leaning against Donghae. His head against the other’s shoulder while he scribbled on a sheet music, his unoccupied hand playing absently over the watch that had a crack on its screen wrapped around Donghae’s wrist. Donghae would be watching his new lover, listening to the quiet beats of their hearts.

As they were about to leave, they paused right around the corner of The Library. Hyukjae handing over the sheet music, now filled with his scribblings to Donghae. The latter would then smile as he read what’s written on the paper. They hugged, like they usually did.

Except now, Hyukjae had placed his other arm around Donghae’s neck from where it usually rested to his side to join the other one. It felt right, that’s what he would answer if asked. As always, Donghae would be the first one to pull away.

This time, he pulled away to steal a playful kiss from Hyukjae’s cold lips. They smiled, a little coy in the semi-darkness of the streetlight. The completed sheet music held tightly in Donghae’s grasp, now titled _Melody & Lyrics_ written in pen. A slightly battered watch now wrapped around Hyukjae’s wrist.

Hyukjae once asked if Donghae had a story to tell, and the latter promised to tell when it’s finished. Donghae did.

And Hyukjae wasn’t left to wonder many things any longer.


End file.
